


Scraps and Stitches

by FreckleLemonade



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 1940s, Blood and Injury, Brotp, Bucky Barnes Is a Good Bro, Cute, Fluff, Gen, One Shot, Past Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-06-10 10:09:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6952372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreckleLemonade/pseuds/FreckleLemonade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve can't stop getting into scraps... It's a good thing Bucky is always there to fix him up again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scraps and Stitches

**Author's Note:**

> Mentions of blood, injuries, and stitching... You've been warned!   
> Otherwise, enjoy! :D

It was 8:00 on a Friday night when Steve Rogers stumbled into the tiny apartment and slammed the door, locking it behind him. He stepped into the dark kitchen and slumped down onto a wooden chair. His chest was heaving with an oncoming asthma attack and as the adrenaline wore off, he could feel his ribs and left eye starting to bruise. He lifted his fingers to his face and tried to wipe at the blood that was leaking out of his nose and dripping onto his shirt. He rubbed a little too hard against the skin of his bruised eye and a pained cry escaped his lips.

The noise sent his best friend, Bucky Barnes, barreling down the stairs. Steve looked up and squinted as the light flickered on, revealing his friend standing in the kitchen doorway with a concerned look plastered on his face. Steve stared back and noticed that Bucky's normally perfect dark hair was a mess and his fingers were fumbling as he tried to do up his shirt buttons. He could hear rustling as another pair of footsteps tapped down the stairs.

"Bucky?" A young woman's voice called out and its owner came into view. Steve noticed that her hair was mussed as well and her red lipstick was slightly smeared across her mouth. She was quickly trying to straighten out her disheveled dress as she caught sight of the blonde boy in front of Bucky. Her face pinched in distaste as she took in his skinny frame and bloodied appearance. Steve was used to getting that look from women so it didn't really come as a surprise to him.

"Bucky," she whined, ignoring Steve, "Are you comin' back or not?"

Bucky's jaw clenched and unclenched for a second before he simply said, "No."

The girl started to argue and Bucky just whipped his head around and glared at her. She just smoothed down the front of her dress, huffed, and stormed out the front door. Steve looked up at Bucky with a guilty look on his face, trying to apologize without saying a word. 

Bucky just shook his head slightly, "Nah, don't worry about it. She was just some khaki wacky dame that came on to me at the bar. Nothin' special for either one of us." 

He gave Steve his best cocky grin. The only thing he cared about right now was the well-being of his best friend who was currently clinging to the wooden table, all battered and bruised. His face was covered with drying blood from his nose. Bucky kneeled on the cracked linoleum floor in front of him. 

"So, what happened this time, huh?"

Steve shrugged and stared at the floor.

"C'mon, Stevie, something obviously happened. You didn't get all bloodied up from nothin'."

Steve sighed. He looked up warily and explained, "There was this dame outside the diner I was at and these two goons were standing around, tryin' to get her to go with them. She was trying to tell 'em that she didn't wanna but..."

He trailed off and Bucky chuckled, "And you just couldn't let that happen so you stepped in to play the hero."

"Being a hero's got nothin' to do with it, Buck." Steve shook his head, "It was just the right thing to do."

Bucky stared at his friend for a moment before he reached out and gently ruffled his blonde hair. "Well, either way, let's get those battle wounds seen to before you go gettin' any more blood on the floor."

Steve nodded and Bucky went to go get the first aid kit. He returned with the green metal box and a bottle of whiskey and sat them on the table. He pulled out a chair and sat opposite to Steve. Steve knew the drill and began unbuttoning his shirt while Bucky opened the kit, pulling out bandages, a needle and thread, and a small glass bottle of isopropyl alcohol. As Steve sat bare-chested in front of him, Bucky scanned over his frail body. He had always been protective of Steve and the bruises that marred his pale skin made his blood boil. If he wasn't busy patching Steve up right now, he'd be out looking for the chumps that did this.

Bucky poured Steve two shots of the whiskey and the blonde boy slammed them back dutifully, coughing a little from the strength of the alcohol. After his friend was done, Bucky poured another shot for himself, to steady his fingers. He splashed a bit of the isopropyl alcohol on a piece of clean cloth and began dabbing at the cuts on Steve's chest. He wiped at the dried blood that had been smeared over Steve's face from his nosebleed as gently as he could, minding the purple bruises that were forming rapidly on his cheekbone. When Steve was as cleaned up as he was going to get, Bucky put the cloth down beside the first aid kit and picked up the tiny needle and spool of black thread.

"Well, let's take care of that gash on your shoulder first, I guess. Get the worst part over with." 

Bucky threaded the needle and took a deep breath. He poked the needle into Steve's skin and winced as he pulled the thread through the first stitch. Steve flinched a little at first but otherwise remained quiet and still. Bucky's stomach always turned during the first couple stitches. It wasn't like sewing up holes in clothes, like his mother had taught him. Basically the same principle, sure, but cloth didn't bleed and pull against the thread like skin did.

When the gash had been properly stitched up, Bucky carefully tied a knot and dabbed at the rest of the blood that was seeping from the tiny puncture wounds where the needle had delved in and out of the flesh on Steve's shoulder. He put a piece of gauze over the stitches and carefully wound a strip of bandaging around his shoulder, knotting it firmly but carefully.

With a shaky breath, Bucky forced a smile and said, "There ya go, Stevie. Good as new. Just that split lip and black eye to worry about now."

Steve nodded. The two shots of whiskey had done their job and now he was just feeling tired. 

"You've always been such a lightweight when it comes to drinkin'." 

"I was in a scrap too, remember?" He retorted, slowly slumping down in the chair.

Bucky chuckled, "On second thought, maybe we should just get you to bed. You look like you're about ready to pass out on the floor." 

Steve nodded again and tried to stand. His knees buckled a bit and he gripped the edge of the table. Bucky reached out to grab him, trying to be mindful of the wounds that riddled Steve's body. He pulled one of his friend's thin arms on to his shoulder and practically carried Steve up to his room. He pushed open the door and gently settled Steve down onto his bed. Steve weakly crawled under the covers. Bucky pulled them up to his chin and sat on the edge of the bed.

Steve closed his eyes and whispered, "Thank you."

Bucky stared back, "No problem pal. It's like I always say: I'm with you till..."

"Till the end of the line... I know." Steve slurred as sleep began to overtake him.

A slow grin crawled across Bucky's face as he watched his best friend's chest rise and fall, his breathing becoming more and more steady as he drifted off. He reached out and gently stroked his blonde hair one more time.

"Punk."


End file.
